Across the Table
by CompletelyDone
Summary: A story of the tables that sit between Rose and Scorpius and the relationship that blooms across them. Multi-Chap.
1. The Dinner Table, part 1

**Welcome! Here is a multi-chapter fic I've been dabbling in for a few months. I'm anticipating 6 parts in all. More to come soon. Enjoy!**

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Rose Weasley had no friends.

Well, that wasn't entirely truthful. Rose had four friends. And four is—in fact—more than zero.

But if Rose had been asked on this particular evening who her friends were, she would point to her plate of mashed potatoes and give a dry look.

Friends sat together at dinner—it went without saying. However, thanks to another pesky unspoken rule, romantic entanglements trumped friendships. For Rose to be all alone at dinner for the first time either meant she had no friends or was outrageously single. Rose was presently convinced of both.

Sure, she still saw, talked to, and loved her group of four raucous Gryffindors during the school day. But come dinner time, Beck scurried off with some Hufflepuff, and Wesley and Jenny traded disgusting looks. All of this was fine until Risa decided that morning to try her hand at dating. While Rose was pleased for all of her friends, she couldn't help but resent Derrick Smee just a little for stealing Risa away.

Playing with her potatoes provided some relief. It comforted her to draw patterns with the utensils and smoosh the white pillows into a flat mush.

Rose didn't mind her singleness. In fact, she couldn't think of one person she'd willingly sacrifice time with her friends for. Beck, Wesley, Jenny, and Risa clearly didn't feel the same. They were her best, but she was not theirs.

Rose tipped her cheek into a palm, and her fork slipped onto her plate with a clatter. If that evening gave any indication, it was going to be a long year. The date was October 26th, so she had… just over 200 dinners spent alone before the end of the year. Eyes slipping closed, she breathed a long sigh of resignation.

At the sound of a clearing throat, Rose sat up quickly in her seat. Blinking against the sudden onslaught of light, she registered a tall figure standing opposite the table.

"Mind if I join you?"

Rose's confusion drowned out the noise of the Great Hall as she stared at the figure for a long moment. Why on earth was Scorpius Malfoy at the Gryffindor table?

"Sure." Rose gestured for him to sit when the silence had accrued a little too long. He set down his plate and lifted his legs over the bench.

His appearance was something to marvel at. She couldn't recall a time he had ever voluntarily approached her. As his eyes met hers, she also couldn't recall a time he had ever looked at her. Rose would remember those bright green eyes. And the perfectly imperfect hair. And literally everything else about him.

Scorpius tugged at his collar. "You looked like you could use some company."

Rose continued to stare, unsure whether her guest was purposefully impertinent. When he didn't break her gaze, her cheeks grew red and formed a scowl. This was turning out to be a horrible kind of evening. First, abandonment. Next, pity from a beautiful, insolent boy. Merlin, save her.

"I don't mean to—" He sighed, fingers drumming on the table. "It's just that I find myself dreadfully alone tonight, and I wondered if you felt the same way."

Scorpius Malfoy felt lonely? That seemed pretty damn near impossible. He always stayed around that Boynton girl and… Derrick Smee. Rose glanced over to the Ravenclaw table toward Risa. As expected, Derrick hadn't gone anywhere.

"You've been abandoned, too, huh?"

Scorpius shot her a look of amusement over a spoonful of potatoes. "I suppose you could say that."

"And now you're drowning your sorrows in mash? That won't help with Quiddich, you know."

He rewarded her with a smile. Godric, it really wasn't fair how his already handsome face gave way to dimples. He jabbed his spoon in the direction of her plate. "Neither will playing with your food." Beside her flattened potatoes, Rose had taken to arranging her peas in the shape of a tree.

Taking a full spoonful in hand, she dramatically shoveled it into her mouth. Before she had half a mind to be embarrassed by her dramatic display, Scorpius did the same with a smile.

Rose's cheeks burned. Who was this smiling boy, and why hadn't she ever talked to him? "First time sitting alone?"

"No, actually. Derrick dated someone last year for a few months."

"What about Boynton?"

"Amy?" He glanced around the Great Hall. Pointing toward the Slytherin table, he sighed, "I can't remember her boyfriend's name. She's with someone new so often I can't keep up."

Craning her neck, Rose could see Boynton beside a blonde. Anyone with eyes could see the lack of chemistry between the pair. They barely looked at one another. Not for the first time, Rose wondered why people bothered with relationships if it only meant sitting beside one another at dinner and staring off into space.

"Is it your first time sitting alone, then?" Rose snapped her head toward Scorpius, almost having forgotten him across from her.

"Yeah. Seems like dating is just the popular thing to do these days."

"Maybe. But I don't think that's true for everyone," Scorpius quickly added. "Take Derrick, for example. He's been smitten with Risa since Muggle Studies last spring. He's barely talked about anything else since. It's been bloody annoying, but he's happy."

Rose hesitantly peeked over to the Ravenclaw table. She felt a sudden rush of affection for Derrick, though nothing had changed since she looked toward him five minutes ago. Derrick reached down the table to grab a treacle tart for Risa, and Rose couldn't find it in herself to be upset anymore. Especially when she saw the size of Risa's smile.

Letting her head fall into her hands, Rose rubbed at her temples. "I suppose. I'm just angry at love today."

A melodic laugh sounded across her. "Does that happen to you often?"

Peeking through her fingers, Rose replied, "Only when it leaves me all alone and without friends." She swore the Great Hall had gotten quieter as he laughed at her. It was fortunate her hands covered her cheeks. Her body possessed an uncanny knack for letting everyone know how she felt.

"Well, you're not alone. As for the friend part, I think maybe I can help."

Rose stared in disbelief. This evening marked the literal first conversation between them. Was he suggesting what she thought he was?

Ears slightly pink, Scorpius cleared his throat. "I know we don't really know each other, but I think we could become friends. If you want."

The longer Rose stayed silent, the more she noticed his ears growing the color of the burgundy tablecloth beneath his fingers. Blinking, she replied, "You want to be friends with me?"

Scorpius shrugged and pulled at the collar of his blue jumper. "Yeah. You're funny."

Funny? Rose couldn't recall a time when that word had ever been used to describe her. Uptight? Yes. Organized? Always. Intelligent? Of course (and she carried that one with pride). But funny? No, she didn't think anyone had ever called her funny. It made something bloom in her chest, which was why she replied, "Okay," more quickly than she ought to have.

"Okay?" He looked skeptical for a moment before deciding she had been sincere. "Okay. In that case, I'm happy to meet you, Rose."

"Likewise, Scorpius."

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**Blessings, CompletelyDone**


	2. The Classroom Table

**Welcome to part 2. Enjoy!**

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This. This had been the thing Rose dreaded most of all the things to come. Here she stood, in the back of her classroom, with nowhere to sit. She had known this was inevitable for five weeks now. Those five dreaded weeks since Risa and Derrick started dating. Becoming partners in class evidently meant progress for their school fling.

Rose wasn't angry at Derrick anymore. He had a strange pleasantness about him. But Rose still abhorred the repercussions of teenage love.

While delighted for Risa and Derrick, Rose found it hard to encourage romance when it meant she barely saw her friends and was lonelier than ever before. The last several weeks would have been miserable, if not for—

"Ah," a familiar voice sounded beside her. "I wondered when this would happen."

Rose had little opportunity to talk with Scorpius outside of the dinner hour. Now standing beside her, she couldn't help but notice how much more put-together he looked during the school day—blue tie all done up, robes nicely pressed, and hair combed back.

"Let me guess," he inquired. "You're mad at love today?"

"Yup." Her rucksack slouched unceremoniously at her feet. "I don't know what to do. Risa and I have been Potions partners since third year."

Scorpius cleared his throat beside her. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm also without a partner today."

Rose paused in confusion. "And?"

"How they ever made you Head Girl is beyond me." Clucking his tongue at her, a small quirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. He leaned down to grasp her rucksack by the straps. Though it took Rose all of her strength to carry that damn bag, Scorpius pulled it off the ground like it was the equivalent of candy floss. "Follow me."

Just like that, Rose stood alone at the back of the classroom once more. She only sprung to action when her belongings hit a desktop with a resounding thump. Scorpius said nothing but neatly pulled books from his own brown satchel and started the burner beneath the table's cauldron.

"You won't make a very good partner if you just stand there all period." The seat across from him was kicked out, and he gestured for her to sit.

"You want to be my partner?"

Smiling to himself, Scorpius flipped his book open to the assigned text. When she did not respond, he finally raised his eyes to hers only to roll them one moment later. "Yes, Rose," he answered emphatically. "I want to be your Potions partner."

Rose flopped opposite him in near shock. She obviously missed the progression from _desperate dinner friendship_ to _classroom friendship_. Ignoring the bubbling in her stomach, she fished through her bag for her three favorite textbooks. Moste Potente Potions was always where she started. Feeling Scorpius crane his head toward the volume, she thumbed quickly past the book's chapters on venoms and poisons.

"What is that book?"

Lifting it so he could see the title, she explained, "Risa was a dodgy partner, so I had to get creative with my help." Lowering her voice, she added, "it's in the Restricted Section, but I found my own copy over the summer."

Scorpius' sudden grin made her chest feel heavy and arrhythmic. "I knew this would go well."

"What would go well?"

"Being your Potions partner." Quill in hand, he leaned over a piece of scrap paper to compose a list of ingredients using both his and her books.

As he made for the supply closet, Rose hurried after with a tray. "What do you mean, you _knew_?"

"Hold this, would you?" Shrivelfig and Wormwood passed between outstretched hands. "If I'm honest, Derrick was a little gormless when it came to Potions. Made me wonder what it'd be like to work with the best potioneer in class." The tweezers in his hand carefully counted and chose porcupine quills from the storage container. "So now that she needs a partner, I'm going to jump at it."

A dusky white light fell from a nearby window, illuminating a darkening pink tinge at the tops of Scorpius' ears. Rose found herself biting her lip and forcing herself to count the potion materials again.

"I'm dearly hoping you're better at Potions than you are at social cues." Scorpius smirked as he dispatched her a vial of Sopohorous beans.

She hid a sheepish smile. "No promises." Before Scorpius made leave of the closet, she pointed toward the top left cabinet. "We'll want a sprig of peppermint. It helps reduce side effects of the elixir."

"Really?"

"Peppermint has a byproduct of menthol when broken down. Menthol is an alcohol, so it's adds a slight depressive effect to the Elixir to Induce Euphoria. That's my theory, anyway."

Eyes wide, he blinked once, twice, three times before shaking his head, "Where have you been for the last seven years, Rose Weasley?"

"Right under your nose, it seems," she attempted a coy smile, though it was likely more akin to hysteria. As she turned to dispense their ingredients, she could have sworn he quietly agreed.

Scorpius returned to their shared space moments later with the peppermint requested. "If today goes well, you'd better believe I'm stealing you to be my partner in every class."

"We only have two classes together, Scorpius."

"Four, actually." Rose nearly crushed the peppermint sprig in surprise. Was she so imperceptive of others, or was he cognizant of her? "Potions, Defense, Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration. But I swear I'll drag you to Arithmancy and Charms with me if I need to."

"Is this reciprocal? I sure could use a partner in History of Magic." She grinned, already knowing his answer. There were seven students in N.E.W.T. level History of Magic, and Scorpius was not one of them.

As anticipated, Scorpius winced noticeably. "Fine. You win. I'll take you for the four we have together, though."

"You'll have to prove your worth first, mister Malfoy."

"Is that all?" Crushing the Shrivelfig, he dusted the product into the boiling cauldron. "Done."

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**CompletelyDone**


	3. The Study Table

**Happy weekend, everyone. Here is the latest installment of Across the Table. Enjoy!**

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Rose was in a huff.

Sadly, huffy Rose was becoming commonplace.

Despite the holiday cheer within the castle, Rose could not find it within herself to participate. Not only was she horrendously unprepared for finals, the Head Boy was on a mental vacation and her Quiddich captain scheduled practice at ungodly hours.

As the cherry on top, Beck had been stealing Rose's emotional energy like it was going out of style. Rose understood Beck felt lonely after breaking from his latest bird, but her sympathy did not extend to compassion. Especially as compassion required hearing about what's-her-face at breakfast, lunch, dinner, between classes, and during every spare minute she had.

So when Rose saw that Beck-black mop of hair tottering toward her in the library, she did the first and only thing that would afford her a moment of peace. She muttered a quick _Petrificus Totalis_, packed up her books, and ran halfway across the castle.

Only when she stopped running did she pause to think about the implications of her actions. Rose stunned her best friend and left him lying in the library! If that didn't earn her a free pass to eternal torment, she didn't know what would.

Rose groaned, tugging on her short brown ponytail and tapping her foot overdramatically. A kind soul would take care of Beck, right?

Yes, she decided. A kind soul—a _different _kind soul—would take care of Beck. And Rose would listen later. Right now, she needed to write a bleeding Transfiguration essay before her marks took a nosedive.

The trouble was she couldn't very well go back to the library. Beck was paralyzed near her favorite desk. Sighing, Rose deposited her books on the windowsill and slid to the corridor floor.

After a moment of self-pity, she reached over her head and pulled out books, papers, a quill, and ink from her bag. Her wand removed itself from its home in her ponytail and summoned a sturdy wooden bench from across the hall. A warming charm cast over her legs provided the comfort necessary to get to work.

Just as she added a coherent thought to her human transfiguration paper, an individual turned the corner and stumbled over her extended legs. Pain shot up her right ankle, and she cursed loudly.

"Bloody—"a voice cried above her. A figure clamored against the windowsill as she blinked against the daylight. "What the bleeding—Rose?"

"Scorpius?" Through lidded eyes, she made out his face. Confusion was a foreign look on him; Rose couldn't remember a time when she'd seen his eyebrows knit together or a frown grace his lips.

His eyes wandered to where she gripped her ankle. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry I didn't see you." Her cheeks grew balmy as he kneeled and rolled up her trousers. Scorpius ran his fingers over the throbbing injury. When he pushed a certain way over her outer ankle, she let out a pathetic yelp. "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I think I might have given you a little fracture. Do you mind…?" He reached for his wand and waited for an answer.

"Do you know what you're doing?" She inquired, biting back the pain still aching under his thumb.

"I'm a Quiddich player, remember? We kind of have to know these things. And—" he hesitated a moment before confessing, "I'm applying to become a healer."

Rose felt her eyebrows rise on her forehead. She hadn't known this about him, but it didn't surprise her all that much. He was incredible in Transfiguration and said to be the best Charms student Hogwarts had seen in a decade. Not to mention the kindness and compassion she'd seen from him over their short friendship. "Heal away," she gestured ambiguously.

Nodding, he pushed aside the wooden bench-made-worktable and extended his left hand toward her. "Squeeze," he clarified, seeing the unsure look she wore. "This may hurt a bit."

Hesitantly, she received his warm hand in hers. With a deep breath, she squeezed his hand and ignored the thudding in her chest at his proximity.

"_Brackium Emendo_." Rose had to bite back a groan as the pain intensified to red-hot for a moment. Scorpius dropped his wand to the floor and felt along her ankle. "Any better?"

She blinked, taking account of the sensation in the extremity. "Much."

His gaze fell between them where she still gripped his hand. Godric, could she be any clingier? Dropping his hand, she pushed herself off of the floor to test her ankle.

"Why are you sitting in the corridor?"

"Oh. I'm a little desperate. I'm behind in Transfiguration."

Scorpius tipped his head to the side. "You know there's a place students can go to do homework, right? With tables, chairs, and books?" Despite his teasing tone, Rose's cheeks grew predictably hot.

"See, I thought of that. But so had Beck." She began picking up her papers, determined to relocate to a less hazardous location.

Comprehension flooded Scorpius' features. "He's looking for you in the library now?" By natural consequence of Beck's singleness, he was now free to sit with Rose and Scorpius at dinner. Poor Scorpius had heard a great deal about Beck's tragic love life over plates of chicken and shepard's pie.

"You only know the half of it. Now I feel like I'm dying a slow school-related death."

He clucked his tongue at her and lifted her rucksack and papers off the floor. "So dramatic, Rose." He pulled the bag away when she reached for it. "You good on that ankle? Or do you need help?"

Hopping up and down on her right foot proved to be painless. "I'm okay. You did a bang-up job there. I think you'll do well as a healer." Rose grinned up at Scorpius, who smiled back bashfully.

"Anyone can heal a bone," the nonchalant shrug he gave was betrayed by eyes that fell to the floor.

"Maybe. But not everyone cares enough to put a patient at ease before they do it," she motioned to his hand. "I think that's half of good medicine. You'll be brilliant."

Features schooled into an unreadable expression, Rose had trouble deciding whether he appeared more confused or anxious. After a long pause, he probed, "Are you this way will all of your friends?"

"What way?"

"Supportive."

Rose frowned. "I don't know what you're getting at here."

He tugged at his collar. "You just learned my dream, yet you support it fully. I'm just wondering if you give out approval so easily to everyone."

Understanding crashed into her. "No, actually. Once, Jenny told me she wanted to work at a bank. If you knew her, you'd think it ridiculous. She constantly spends more than she has coming in. When she asked me my thoughts on becoming a banker, I told her it wouldn't be prudent."

A laugh barked from Scorpius. Rose found she liked the way his eyes shone when his cheeks formed a smile. "Please tell me you used those words exactly."

"You know I did," she beamed. "And one time, Beck told me he wanted to live as a Muggle. I hid his wand for a week to prove to him he couldn't do it." Cocking her head, she concluded, "Jenny would make a terrible banker, and Beck would be a horrendous Muggle. But I really believe Scorpius will make a spectacular healer. Besides, the green robes would go wonderfully with your eyes," Rose joked.

She swallowed hard when Scorpius didn't smile back at her. An indecipherable expression masked his face once again. But this time, he didn't break the silence. He just held her gaze unwaveringly. Rose had the distinct impression they were frozen in this moment. Fortunately, the heat between them thawed her limbs. She reached for her papers, finding her heart pounding, hands clammy, and head light under his scrutiny.

Rose's movement rustled him out of whatever trance he was in. Slinging her rucksack over his shoulder and pulling her papers out of reach, he made down the corridor alone. When she didn't follow, he turned around. "Are you going to follow, or will I actually get away with stealing your homework?"

She hurried after and almost missed when he turned into an alcove to hold a door open. Ducking inside, she emerged in the old Charms classroom. It was long abandoned by students and teachers alike. The room itself had a box-like feeling; stone walls lead to a stone fireplace which stretched to a low ceiling. A few desks scattered about, and one large table sat by the fireplace.

Behind her, Rose heard Scorpius mutter a spell to light the fireplace. Unceremoniously dropping her bag to the large table, he welcomed her to join him with a smile. "How can I help?"

"You don't have anything better to do?"

"No, I do. I have probably a hundred better things to do. But I'm feeling rather charitable at the moment. How can I help?"

Rose wondered if this was another step in the direction of real friendship. She had never studied with anyone but Wesley and Jenny, both of whom could _almost_ keep up with her. But Scorpius… well, he was an even match. And better company than she'd admit to anyone. Pulling out the chair he had designated, Rose thought through her essay. "I'm having trouble describing exactly why it's more complicated to do human transfiguration than animal transfiguration."

Scorpius nodded and opened her bag to find their textbook. "Alright, let's start there."

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**CompletelyDone**


	4. The Kitchen Table

**Welcome back! The story continues...**

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Time was a mysterious character. Sometimes, it agreed upon the traditional seven days in a week. Other times, it made itself such a menace as to drag on and on and on with no relief in sight, which was where Rose found herself on a particularly bitter day in early February.

Thirty-five minutes. That was all that she needed to wait to begin her rounds. But it couldn't—and wouldn't—pass. She was eternally stuck at seven twenty-five and entirely unsure what to do about it. It was enough time before rounds Rose felt she should be productive, but it wasn't quite enough time to sit down and form a coherent schoolwork-worthy thought.

Huffing, Rose lamented both her situation and the puff of smoke she emitted. Rose, who often felt chilled in the middle of summer, had found it necessary to don two scarves, a hat, and mittens above a double layer of Gryffindor robes. She realized suddenly she hadn't had the foresight to wear extra socks, and she felt the cold in her feet acutely.

In an effort to keep herself moving and warm, she decided to start rounds early. She was Head Girl, after all. No one could tell the Head Girl not to start and finish her evening rounds early to save her toes from frostbite.

Shoving her mittened hands into deep robe pockets, Rose took off at a pace somewhere between _starting the weekend after a long class_ and _dashing to dinner to get a pumpkin pasty_. Technically, rounds lasted two hours. Tonight, Rose decided, they lasted however long it took to jog her assigned hallways.

After five minutes at her hurried pace, her breath began to labor. After ten minutes, sweat formed at her hair line. Fifteen minutes in and Rose could no longer feel her feet—though she couldn't tell whether it was from cold or exhaustion. Her rounds proved fruitless so far. She supposed no one was coming out to snog in abandoned classrooms and broom closets before eight o'clock, but she continued pulling open doors haphazardly.

As she reached the basement—in record time, she thought proudly—Rose found her first suspicious person of the evening.

Even as Scorpius cast wary and near-criminal looks over his shoulder, Rose couldn't help but stop in her tracks and stare for a moment. It was really unfair how beautiful he was. It was even more unfair her body often told her exactly how attractive she thought him.

"Lo, there!" Rose shouted down the corridor, determined to banish all non-platonic thoughts from her mind. She laughed as Scorpius jumped at her exclamation. "You look awfully suspicious, mister Malfoy. Have anything to confess to the Head Girl?"

Try as he might, Scorpius could not quite move the look of surprise from his face. He leaned one shoulder against the stone wall. "Absolutely nothing. Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "No reason. I just know from experience you Ravenclaws are always up to something."

His smile fell into a frown as she came down the hall toward him. "Are you okay, Rose? You're looking sickly."

Putting the back of her gloved hand to her forehead, Rose remembered the way she'd run through the castle. "Oh, that. No, I just finished rounds."

"Were you chasing someone outside? Why are you wearing two scarves?"

Rose had the sense to duck her head in embarrassment. She had forgotten she wore so many layers. "I'm supporting my house. Evidently, you could learn some house pride from me," she said, nodding to his green jumper.

"I'm practicing for my Healing career. I've been told green goes well with my eyes." His smile was nothing less than mischievous.

It was true, Rose thought with despair. His eyes _did_ look magnificent. Stomach doing flips, she cleared her throat. "I take it back. Green makes you look downright Slytherin. Especially when you're wandering around the castle late at night."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, dear Head Girl. For one, eight-fifteen is hardly _late at night_. For another, _wandering_ suggests I don't know where I'm going."

"Where is it you're going, then?" she smirked.

He tugged at his collar as she nailed him with a knowing look. He had backed himself into a confession. Rose only had to squint her eyes a bit more before he broke down. "Fine. Close your eyes."

She raised her eyebrows. "Absolutely not. I've learned to never trust a subversive Ravenclaw."

"Subversive, indeed." Before Rose could process his wily grin, Scorpius reached onto her forehead and yanked her hat down over her eyes.

Cursing her thick mittens, Rose clawed at the edges of her hat rather unsuccessfully. This is what she got for ignoring the rules and rounding earlier than assigned. Darkness and endless embarrassment.

Not two moments later, her hat tugged free of her head. "Was that really necessary?" she huffed, patting her hair down self-consciously.

Scorpius didn't respond as he turned toward the large painting between them. Was that door handle there before? She was certain it hadn't been.

Rose was too stunned for words as a space in the wall pulled open between them. She had always known Hogwarts had secret places, but she'd never been adventurous enough to go looking for them.

"The kitchens?" Rose wondered aloud at a burst of mouth-watering aroma rushed toward her. With a nod, Scorpius led the way in. At least fifteen house elves milled about between countertops, cupboards, and cooktops. The room was flanked by several large fireplaces and seemed to be about the size of—"Are we under the Great Hall?"

Her companion pulled out a bench at a short table in the center of the room. "Yeah. I'll be right back."

As Scorpius jogged over to speak with a House Elf, Rose set to the task of shucking her layers off one at a time. Both her activity and the roaring fireplaces stifled her with heat. Just as Rose began imagining the benefits of a late-night soak in the Prefects Bath, Scorpius dropped across from her, tray in hand.

"Are those…?"

"Yes, they are." He pushed the platter toward her.

In all her years, Rose wasn't sure she'd ever seen a sight as beautiful as the one before her. Piled high between them, a dozen pumpkin pasties glistened with baked sugar granules. She was certain her eyes were watering as much as her mouth. Internal conflict arose as she considered being polite and slow—as her mother would recommend—or eating as much and as quickly as possible—as her father would encourage.

She settled with her mother's advice with a delicate reach. "These are my favorite."

He grinned, long fingers reaching for a pastry. "I figured. What with you eating four before dinner and six after last week."

Rose had the mind to duck her head in mild discomfiture, face reddening. The entire pumpkin pasty in hand made its way into her mouth. "At least I don't smack people's hands away from chocolate eclairs," she mumbled through full cheeks.

"Hey. Chocolate eclairs are no joking matter."

"Evidently not." She laughed at the serious tilt of his eyebrows while collecting another treat. "How did you find this place? I don't think my cousins even know how to get here."

His eyes fell from hers. Fingers picking at his desserts, he admitted, "Professor Urquhart brought me here during first year." The silence dragged out between them for a moment as Scorpius studied the table. Rose's chest felt heavy when he finally looked up at her with a small smile. "It gave me somewhere to go. Some of the kids weren't all that great to me when we started school."

Rose frowned. "And by not great you mean…"

Green shoulders shrugging, he admitted, "They'd push me around, mostly. Tell me I wasn't worth being in Ravenclaw. Call me a Deatheater."

Rose's pumpkin pasty fell from her hand to the bench beside her in surprise. "Sorry! I'm so sorry," she apologized profusely to the two House Elves who had rushed to aid her in cleaning the mess. Shyly, she looked back to her friend with red cheeks and a sad heart.

Deatheater. It was a filthy, horrible thing to call someone. It was to call someone vile, unworthy of life and happiness. Rose knew the history of Scorpius' family, but she was shocked that some of their classmates had judged him so quickly based on name alone.

Before she could open her mouth to respond, he held up his hand between them. "I don't want your pity or apologies, Rose. What happened was awful, but it gave me a new appreciation for my family. They made mistakes, but they learned from them. And through all of that junk I learned how to stand up for myself and make my own reputation."

"As a subversive Ravenclaw with questionable taste in dessert and a knack for charms?"

"Yes, precisely," his grin split his face so blindingly that Rose had to look away to prevent herself from spontaneously combusting.

Heart racing and head light, Rose plucked at the fabric of the coat on her lap. "For what it's worth, I think you're really brave."

Scorpius snorted, "For hiding from my problems and drowning my sorrows in sweets?"

"No." Twisting a button between her fingers, Rose looked up and met his green eyes. "For not staying down here for the last seven years. For making friends and being your own person. And for talking about it."

"I don't actually talk about it much," he admitted, tugging on his collar. He laughed, the sound coming across as slightly nervous. "You just make it easy somehow. And I want to tell you things."

Merlin, what could she say in return? How could she say anything, really? Her innards lodged in her throat and she felt wonky as a whole. Scorpius was too damn friendly for his own good. The problem was she was liable to do something decidedly _not friendly _the longer she stared and the longer he drew attention to his figure by pulling on his sweater.

Clearing her throat, Rose replied cheerily, "You'd best be careful, mister Malfoy. You might spill some big secrets to me."

"I'm flattered you think I'm capable of big secrets."

She shrugged, reaching toward the plate between them. "Never know. You might have some secret love that's burdening your heart."

"I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, so I'm sure there's nothing secret in that regard." He gazed at her unblinkingly, green eyes meeting blue.

Rose couldn't move, couldn't think, and couldn't breathe. It was only when he cleared his throat and went for another pumpkin pasty that the trance was broken, and she hurriedly swallowed the pastry in her mouth.

For a moment, she wondered whether he shared some of his feelings. Unsteadiness. Giddiness. Hopelessness. Desire.

Shaking her head slightly, Rose banished the thought. Scorpius was her friend. He might be the best, most wonderful (and certainly most attractive) person she knew, but who was she compared to him? A much too Type A, bookish, and exceptionally awkward creature.

"Okay. How about the location of your secret chocolate frog stash?" she asked when she found her tongue.

"I'll never tell, Weasley." Eyes crinkling with mystery, he leaned forward conspiratorially. "Not even on pain of death."

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**All my best,**

**CompletelyDone**


	5. The Hospital Table

**Welcome back, all! The world has changed a bit since we last met. Hopefully, this can provide you with a small distraction. Enjoy!**

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The last time Rose had woken with a rolling stomach, aching head, and an unwillingness to crack an eye, it had been a direct result of half a bottle of Elderflower wine. Her cousins snuck three bottles behind the shed at the Burrow last August when a long-awaited Head Girl badge arrived via owl. The evening had concluded with an inebriated climb up the trellis to her third floor bedroom window. Come morning, she was nothing short of a sloth.

Now, Rose lay as still as possible to avoid aggravating a deep head-to-toe ache. She couldn't recall any celebration the night before. Not that she was all that cognitive at present—thinking hurt nearly as much as simply lying in bed.

No, Rose decided. She would not have attended a party or snuck a swallow of mead with her friends yesterday. Not on a Tuesday.

Forcing her eyes shut tight for several moments, Rose took a deep breath before opening them wide. Tears blurred before her as she adjusted to her surroundings.

The Hospital Wing?

The hall was dim and hushed, just barely waking. Early sunrise reflected off the opposite wall and caught the brass knobs at the foot of each bed. Only two other beds appeared occupied, both inhabitants coiled up tightly in sheets. The stink of ammonia percolated the air, adding to the lightheadedness Rose suffered.

As she attempted to rub the sleep from her face, Rose was surprised to find her right arm bound. She held down her alarm and carefully pulled back the blinding white covers, every movement a struggle. Early purple bruises were forming on both thighs. On the right, her bruising extended up past the margin of her thin hospital gown. Lifting the fabric with her free hand, she gasped as she followed the darkening hue all the way up her side, past her hip, over her ribs, and to her swollen, bound shoulder.

Entirely new tears sprung to her eyes. She looked and felt broken, and she couldn't remember how or why. Clenching her teeth helped force down the urge to sob, the act of which undoubtedly would have been agonizing.

Behind her, someone rustled and sighed. Rose quickly covered her exposed hip and shoulder.

As she turned, the first thing she noticed upon the patient table was a large tome bound in red leather. The title read "Medical Diagnostics and Treatment." She knew who was sitting with her, even before directing her gaze farther.

Scorpius Malfoy had no right to look so beautiful while asleep. He lay with his head in the crook of his arm, lips parted for the careful cadence of his breaths. If not for the small furrow shifting beneath his eyebrows he might have appeared very much at peace.

Long past the point of denial, Rose now freely recognized the degree of desire she possessed for her friend. Was it proper? No. Was it likely to turn out the way she hoped? Almost certainly not. But that didn't mean she couldn't wish and dream about a _them_ when she looked at him—especially when he was a mere hospital table away.

Rose just then felt a small amount of gratitude for her injuries. Without them, she would likely have bounded out of her invalid bed to kiss the tension from Scorpius' face. As it were, she hardly felt able to move the dominant half of her body, much less move to him.

"Scorpius," she whispered to him, not wanting to wake the student who lay asleep three beds down. Fighting the urge to soothe the space between his eyes with her finger, Rose instead reached for his arm. "Scorpius."

Very reluctantly, he opened his eyes to her. Something of a veil hung over Scorpius. Blinking, once, twice, three times, he sat up abruptly, Rose's hand falling away from him.

_Merlin_, Rose thought to herself. Hair askew in all directions, clothes rumpled, and eyes shot through with blood, he looked the very picture of a tortured man.

"Hi," his voice graveled across to her. Rose felt her insides flutter as his scrutiny raked over her and landed on her shoulder. "You—How are you feeling?"

There was the million galleon question. She shrugged. Pain shot through her right shoulder, and she puffed a short cry.

Scorpius was on his feet immediately. He curved the corner of the bed and knelt beside her. "May I?" he asked, nodding to her injury.

Swallowing hard, Rose carefully peeled back her hospital gown. She was acutely aware of how close he was and how his breath tingled over her skin. Face void of emotion, he stared at her injuries before reaching to dig through the medicine cart beside her. A white sack was fished out of the bottommost drawer. Scorpius cast a charm over it, gently tugged her gown back up her arm, and laid the object against her shoulder. The shock of cold from the pack and his refusal to meet her gaze emphasized an odd tension between them.

"Thank you," she ground out, shuffling back in bed to sit up more fully. Still not regarding her, he rounded the bed to return to his station at her left. "Didn't I say you'd make a good healer?" she smiled.

Immediately, his face fell. It was as if he was curling into himself, eyes downcast, chin falling to his chest, all deportment lost.

"Scorpius?"

"I can't," he rasped. "I don't think I can do it."

Rose frowned. "What? Become a healer? Of course you can!"

Finally turning to her, he paused for a moment. "Do you remember what happened?" She shook her head after a frustrating moment's thought. "We had an exam in Transfiguration, and we were walking to lunch together."

Rose did remember her exam. As part of the practical portion, she had been asked to transfigure herself into a bird. For the most part, Rose felt confident that she had done well. Though she had wondered, as she was leaving the classroom, whether she had put the correct emphasis on the wandless incantation as she was transfiguring back to herself. As she packed up her belongings to meet Scorpius in the hall, she recalled feeling slightly wobbly. That was the extent of her memory. Try as she might, Rose found that she could not recall what had happened after stepping out of the classroom.

"You seemed imbalanced. I suggested we sit for a while for you to acclimate, but you insisted on going straight to the Great Hall." Here, Scorpius laughed to himself, "They were serving on chocolate eclairs with lunch, and you weren't about to put up with me in Potions if I missed out."

Rose grinned at him, "No one in their right mind would brew a Laughing Potion with you after that. You'd be in such a foul mood that when we got to the portion where we have to _laugh loudly and uncontrollably_, you'd just sulk."

Smile gone, Scorpius nodded slightly, "Yeah. Yeah, that's what you said. And then we were at the Grand Staircase, and—You were there, and then you weren't. Rose—" his voice broke, sending her heart into her stomach. "You fell four stories."

Her emotions were everywhere. First, shock. Next frustration. Anger at herself for being so reckless. Finally, gratitude for waking up in one piece.

Scorpius had no such warring emotions. His posture was that of pure misery, elbows on the table, hands in his hair. Rose wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so upset. Between the two of them, he generally was the calmer and more collected individual.

"How long have I been here?"

"Overnight."

Grateful she hadn't lost more time in unconsciousness, Rose breathed deeply. On her exhale, she noticed the clutter of belongings beside the bed. Rose's clothes and bag were joined by the messenger bag Scorpius carried around and a blanket splayed across the back of the visitor's chair. Had Scorpius brought her in and stayed here with her the whole time?

Disliking his constant frown, she teased, "Lighten up. I'm alive, aren't I?"

Only a dry snigger came in response. Looking back to Scorpius sent a shiver through her. Where he had previously been closed-off, now he wore an expression of such tenderness that Rose had to shift her focus to her sling. "I was afraid you wouldn't be, you know." Rose snapped up her head at those words, regretting it immediately when pain shot down her neck. Instead of reacting to the pain, she bit her tongue and watched him as he cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I've ever been so terrified in my life. I had no idea how to help you. And if you had—if something had happened to you, I don't know what I would have done."

"Isn't that why you want to be a healer? So you won't be helpless?" she asked, remembering the comment made earlier.

He shook his head. "I don't think I'm fit for it. I can't see people I care about get hurt."

"You won't always be treating your friends."

"No, but I might just look at someone and think _wow, Rose's shoulder is dislocated and she's unconscious_. And that's what happened. I froze and I didn't know how to help you, and for all I knew you might have died." His fingers began tapping a cadence upon the table between them. Rose recognized the motion as a sign of disquiet; only twice had she seen it before: at breakfast before his last Quiddich game and while sealing the envelope to his healer applications.

"Scorpius, look at me." When he made no move toward her, Rose reached to lay her hand over his to still his motions, hoping to Merlin her gesture wasn't too forward.

Watching their fingers rest together for a long moment, he finally raised glassy eyes to meet her.

"_I'm okay_," she emphasized to him. "I hurt in places I didn't know I had, but I'll be fine. So that's that. I'll be okay and you're still going to be a healer. You're too gifted, and compassionate, and stubborn to be anything else. Sure, maybe you have a lot to learn, but that's what healer training is for, isn't it?"

A thoughtful tilt rested on his features. With a sigh, he dropped his forehead onto his resting arm.

Rose became terribly aware just then of her hand _still_ covering his. As desperately as she was to touch him and be close to him, Rose knew she couldn't force Scorpius to see her as more than he already did. With one final appreciative glance, she gently slid her arm back toward her side.

Faster than she could comprehend, Scorpius reached out and snagged her moving palm. His fingers curled around hers and held them in place. Rose struggled to school her features as he turned to look up at her for a long moment, head tilting to rest in the crook of his elbow. _I'm glad you're alright_, his expression seemed to say.

_Me, too_, she thought. Instead, she cleared her throat and sent him a wily grin. "Besides, what else would you be? You'd make a terrible politician."

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**CompletelyDone**


	6. The Three Broomsticks Table

Sunshine and temperate breezes did nothing to improve Rose's mood on this particular Saturday in May. She was, frankly, in a rut. And quite mad at love, yet again.

The last Hogsmeade trip, and she was spending it with Jacob Bullion. Jacob _was _quite agreeable—he was excessively friendly, had a penchant for telling stories, and carried the Hogwarts record for most "O's" awarded in Arithmancy—but Rose fooled herself when she imagined a day with him would be as distracting as planned.

Through no fault of Jacob's own, Rose was miserable. And worse, she knew exactly _why_ she was miserable.

She had no right to be disappointed in Scorpius for failing to ask her to Hogsmeade. Yet some small slice of her continued to wish his feelings for her into something they were not.

Another part of her knew she alone sourced her misery. Continued hoping against hope led her to the desperate act of dating a near stranger.

As she and her companion ducked into the Three Broomsticks, the smell of whiskey and the close press of bodies gave Rose an instant headache. Rose was about to suggest a change in venue when Jacob looked down at her with a smile and informed her he was buying today. The lingering touches left on her shoulder as they spoke did not go unnoticed.

Forcing a placid smile onto her face, Rose thanked him and offered to find a table. At least ten other customers waited ahead of them, and she only felt a prick of guilt for wanting a long moment to herself.

Squeezing past couples and awkwardly climbing over chairs only soured her mood further. Two fruitless rounds of the venue found Rose dashing to a window in the back corner of the pub that looked very appropriate for wallowing.

The window looked out onto the alleyway between The Three Broomsticks and the post office. Unfortunately, the usually-vacant view was obscured by a couple snogging for England across the way. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Rose sighed and let her head fall against the window frame with a thud.

"I'll drink to that."

There, in the darkest corner of the pub, Scorpius tilted his glass toward her before drawing a deep draft.

Rose was grateful for the dim lighting, as she knew her face betrayed all of her emotions. Of course, Scorpius had to be there. At that moment, on that day. The universe had such nasty timing.

Glancing over her shoulder at Jacob, she confirmed he still stood in an extended line for the bar. Falling forward, she invited herself to the vacant seat across from her friend and slouched back in exhaustion.

"How's your date?"

Rose shrugged, hardly knowing the correct response. "What's it meant to be like?"

His lips tugged up into a half smile. "I'm not the person to ask." Rose observed the roll of his wrist with glass in hand. "Probably exciting. Maybe amusing or comfortable, depending on who you're with."

_So a lot like this, then_, Rose thought miserably. She silently reached her hand out toward his drink. He hesitated only a moment before offering it freely, the opaque glass settling comfortably in her hand. She stopped the vessel halfway to her mouth as she noticed it contained a warm, murky liquor. "Quintin Black all alone, huh?" she raised an eyebrow toward the blonde.

"Bad day."

They watched each other for a long moment before Rose tipped her head back for a drink. The liquid burned marvelously from her tongue to stomach. Liquor wasn't exactly contraband for two persons of-age, but she still felt slightly mutinous toward her Head Girl title. She shot a glance over her shoulder toward the student body, eyes briefly skimming Jacob, before taking another sip.

"Bullion is a decent bloke, for what it's worth." Scorpius plucked his drink out of her fingers and tapped it distractedly against the table for a few beats. "Though I should warn you he has a horrendously large collection of Chocolate Frog cards."

Though never best mates, Rose knew Scorpius and Jacob spent a great deal of time together by virtue of sharing a dormitory and Quiddich team for seven years. She hummed in response, a small smile hiding itself behind her lips. Waiting until he swigged another drink, she added, "He tells me your collection is much more impressive."

Rose uncomfortably engulfed a loud laugh as she watched his eyes go wide and swallow become a sputtering choke. She shimmied the goblet from where it had been slammed onto the table. More than was proper, she found particular enjoyment in the way his ears turned pink in between coughs, like she had caught him unexpectedly.

"I can't believe he told you!" he pouted halfheartedly toward the bar before groaning into his palms. "Well, I'm thoroughly mortified."

"It might have been less embarrassing for you to tell me yourself, you know." Though not an uncommon hobby for young wizards, collecting the cards seemed rather pedestrian and childish for her friend. Many of her cousins had at one time enjoyed a large collection—Lucy boasted over two-hundred cards in hers—but she knew of none who had continued accumulating past age thirteen.

"I was planning to. But at least ten years from now." Rose felt her chest blossom at his implied hopes for a long friendship. "Bullion must really think highly of you if he revealed that information on a first date." An indecipherable look briefly passed Scorpius' features.

"Well he didn't really have a choice in telling me. He all but shrieked for joy when he found a good card in Honeydukes." Rose had to outright smile at the way Scorpius' entire demeanor perked with interest. Before he could ask, she revealed, "Montague Knightley, the chess player."

"But there are only ten printed per year!" Shaking his head, he fell back in his chair. Sighing, he muttered, "He's just having the best day, isn't he?" more to himself than to her.

To Rose's analysis, it did look like Jacob was having a pretty great day. Now third in line at the bar, he laughed with a couple seated nearby. He stood tall and talked as animatedly as she had seen him do in Arithmancy when he particularly enjoyed the classwork. Across the room, he met her eyes and lit up like the Great Hall at Christmas with a wave and untouchably bright smile. She returned both gestures meekly, guilt stabbing away at her conscience. In that moment, she might have given her badge to prevent the conversation she knew would take place in a few hours' time:_ Sorry, no, I don't think we should continue to date, Jacob. Why? Because I'm horrendously selfish and probably in love with someone who has a better Chocolate Frog card collection than you._

Turning correctly in her seat, she was surprised to find Scorpius examining the other end of the tavern as well. His features had drawn into a shockingly neutral expression. A slight glaze rested over his eyes, likely the result of a drink or two. Only then did Rose remember his motive for drinking alone.

"Do you want to talk about your bad day?"

His eyes shot to hers, glazed look disappearing as he reoriented himself. "It's unwise to ask a drinking wizard to share his feelings, Rose," he teased after a moment's silence. The tilt to his eyebrows was playful, but the corner of his mouth didn't twist in its usual way.

"And here I am asking anyway," she replied stubbornly, not giving in to what she knew to be a façade of humor.

He kept her questions at bay a moment longer by taking a lingering drink from his glass. Rose watched as the chalice returned to the place between them once again, the black liquor refilling itself to half glass. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the wood table gave Rose pause, so she elected not to push any farther. But the more time she gave him to nervously tap away, glance anywhere but her, and open his mouth only to hurry it closed again, the more uneasy she herself became.

"Scorpius?" she prodded gently when she could no longer stand his tense muteness.

"Sorry," he laughed shakily, "I'm not quite sure what to say."

Frowning, she tilted her head. Hadn't he told her himself he was an open book? If that was the case, he was an open tome of ancient Mandarin for all she could understand. "Okay," she replied with some hint of a question. Behind her, Jacob ordered at the bar, signaling the end of her freedom with Scorpius. Sighing deeply, she turned back to ask Scorpius whether he would mind lending her his unending glass of Quintin Black for the day, only to find him studying Jacob once more.

"I'm having a bad day because I should be the one buying you a drink," was all he breathed for a moment.

Rose felt her features pull in confusion but fought to maintain neutrality as he turned his focus to her. His eyes darted around her face before meeting her own unblinkingly. Somehow, she had the impression he laid himself out in front of her, though she couldn't fathom why. She had to pinch her wrist under the table to force herself not to break his gaze. Surely, she had done nothing to deserve that look from him.

"You're brilliant, Rose. I really like you." He cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his white shirt. "Actually, I think it might be—well, I think it's rather more than that."

Tongue biting was the only method Rose could presently find to both keep her conscious and prevent her from outright sobbing. As it were, she expended so much mental energy into remembering her need for air that she simply could not respond.

"I love spending time with you. Absolutely love it. But I want to buy you a drink. And I want to tell you how stunning you look and sit here with you and call it a date. I should have said something—anything, really—but didn't have a clue where to start. Now," a slight shakiness crept into his breaths, "I think the opportunity may be gone."

Rose did not feel similarly. Scorpius _hadn't_ lost his opportunity. Instead, he'd restored a frightful amount of hope in her and made her queasy with expectation. Just as she formed the beginnings of a word on her tongue, a cheerful spirit carrying butterbeer cut off her thoughts entirely.

Above, Jacob passed her a frosty glass which spread tendrils of its chill across the table. Across, Scorpius dropped his eyes and looked for all the world as if he'd swallowed a bludger. Rose herself could not move and had not one inkling as to what she should do or where she should look.

A gust of guilt swept through her and froze her in place. She realized then two people—no, three—would suffer because of her mess. One, Jacob, would be informed Rose did not and could never feel for him the way he desired; this, Rose realized must be done privately and without present company. Thus, the second, Scorpius, would leave today believing Rose indifferent toward him. The third, herself, would navigate the delicate affair of heartbreaking two wonderful blokes, all the while knowing it was entirely preventable.

Jacob paid no notice to the two individuals he'd interrupted, instead prattling on with words which did not quite register as English to Rose's ears. Scorpius ultimately turned to Jacob, the two Ravenclaws sharing smiles and sentences of some kind.

Before Rose could make sense of their conversation, Scorpius slid his drink to her with a trifling smile and offered up his seat.

So this was what Scorpius meant by lost opportunity, Rose thought ruefully. It must have been a euphemism for her stupidity and blindness. She allowed her eyes to trail behind Scorpius as he exited the bar, then spent the rest of the afternoon taking one drink of butterbeer for every two of Quentin Black.

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